


take a picture (it’ll last longer)

by aozu



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Instagram, M/M, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8716516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/aozu
Summary: Phichit takes a lot of photos. And by a lot, Seung-gil means a fuck ton.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [zdjęcie za zdjęciem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15404127) by [SzmaragDrac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SzmaragDrac/pseuds/SzmaragDrac)



> I wrote this plot more than a month ago but nothing like pure spite to make me finally write it eh?
> 
> I am so upset Seung did not make it to the grand prix final does the universe have to deny me everything and by everything I mean Seung and Phichit in the same frame /sobs

There weren’t many things Seung-gil observed outside the rink—skating techniques were his life, nothing else mattered, much—but he couldn’t help but notice that his fellow Asian skater took a lot of photos. Granted, there weren’t many Asians around in Detroit so it was plenty easy for them to stick out. Seung-gil didn’t plan on interacting with any of them to be honest, he just so happened to sit down at a table in the cafeteria that had a Japanese one time—he’d seen the other in the rink sometimes, Katsu-something, like the Japanese dish, probably—and _then_ a rather tanned skin boy pulled the seat next to his and flopped down with the brightest smile he’d ever seen.

Seung-gil had tried to ignore the boy the best he could, but there was nothing he could do when the other leaned closer and proceeded to _talk_.

 _Phichit Chulanont from Thailand_ , the other had introduced with English better than his own. Seung-gil refrained from repeating the name even in his head—he’d been sure he’d never remember it or pronounce it correctly. Phichit said something about how excited he was to find another Asian in the skating complex, something about rooming with the Japanese skater, something about ‘they should totally hang out and be best friends’. Seung-gil couldn’t be arsed to pay attention, thinking that it’d just be a one-off meet; it’s not like he wants to hang out or make friends when he’s supposed to be practising his turns and thinking of a choreography for his program. But then he ended up spending the next two months with the other two Asian skaters who just knew _exactly_ where he was all the time.

He’s somehow managed to avoid saying Phichit’s name all this while though, it’s a miracle.

In any case, his main point is that Phichit takes _a lot_ of photos. And by _a lot_ , Seung-gil means _a fuck ton_.

Morning breakfast, a picture of the food. And then a picture of the empty plate. And then a selfie with Katsuki Yuuri, who’s easily bullied into these type of things. And then Seung-gil will try to sneak away before he gets pulled into it—he’s only been successful less times than the number of fingers he has—Phichit easily flashes a victory sign while Seung-gil’s half covering his face with his hand, attempting to stand up to leave.

“Seung, come on,” Phichit says hopping after him, tilting his head in a way that makes the other look particularly innocent.

“I’m going to the rink,” Seung-gil replies stoically, not stopping for the either of the two skaters trying to catch up.

He gets there first, doing some light stretches before lacing his skates on and stepping onto the ice. It’s still slightly early which means the rink is not too crowded, good, and he runs himself through a few easy movements. He doesn’t perform any jumps yet, preferring to get a feel of the space he’s allowed to manoeuvre in.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of his Asian friends— _rinkmates_ , with Phichit leaning on the barrier on the rink with his phone raised and—…what the fuck, is he being _recorded_?

He looms towards the Thai boy with his eyebrows pulled, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I told you it’s a bad idea!” Yuuri hisses from the side, giving Seung a nervous chuckle when he approaches.

Phichit lowers his phone with a guilty grin. “You skate really…beautifully?” he tries, crying out in distress when Seung swipes the goddamn gadget and holds it out of reach. “Seung! I’m sorry, please give it back?” he begs. “Seung!”

Seung-gil glances at the other for a bit, and then promptly takes off further into the ice with the phone.

Phichi yells something, but Seung-gil disappears himself to the other side of the rink. He has no idea what’s so great about taking all these pictures… _videos_ …and he’s not fond of the attention, especially when they get uploaded onto some social media site. The last time, there had been a fan who printed out a picture of him stuffing _shin ramyun_ into his mouth and asked him to sign it. Needless to say he was mildly horrified that someone was stalking him while he was just _eating_ —oh god, can’t he just practice and skate in peace?

He sighs and taps the phone screen, intending to delete the video and whatever photos Phichit has of him. Except he comes to a page with the words ‘New post’ at the top with a caption written: _For you lovely fans_ ❤.

Seung-gil frowns, hitting the back arrow and discarding the video that was about to be uploaded to…to…—he stops still when he finds himself staring at a college of pictures below the name _phichit+chu_.

Pictures of _him_.

Well, okay, it’s not _just_ of him—Seung-gil recognises the breakfast they ate this morning and the selfie the other had taken with Yuuri, but there’s a lot of pictures of him. Some where he’s staring off into space with his earphones plugged in, others when he’s taking a nap at a bench near the pond outside. There are also those selfies where Phichit has successfully taken of them together, which he thought Phichit just… _kept_ those.

As a memento. Of their…friendship. Or something.

Clearly not, given the ‘ _for you lovely fans’_ caption he saw earlier.

He feels kind of… _used_.

Maybe it’s because he genuinely thought Phichit liked taking photos. Maybe it’s because he thought Phichit liked taking photos of things and people that he _liked_. Like. Rinkmates. Friends. In any case, he thought Phitchit wanted those pictures for himself and not for his _fans_.

He’s always known Phichit is addicted to that photo sharing site—Insta…something—but he’s never thought.

Well.

Seung-gil actually feels _stupid_ that he thought—

The phone is snatched out of his hands before he can do anything else, though he’s mostly standing in shock. Phichit clutches his phone protectively against his chest, breathing hard like he’s just lost a life—or two.

“Ugh, why did you delete it?” Phichit sniffles, tapping his phone furiously. “It was so—…Seung?” he ventures suddenly, voice concerned. “…Are you…okay?”

Seung-gil snaps out of it, realising his fist is clenched tight only when he notices Phichit giving it a worried glance. He swallows, mouth bitter, and turns on his heel to skate away.

“Seung…—?” Yuuri calls out when he skates past the Japanese.

He hears his fellow Asian skaters trailing after him, so he gets to the edge of the rink and steps out of the ice, never once looking back.

* * *

Seung is used to being alone, which is why it’s unreasonable that he feels so fidgety. He’s avoided Phichit and by default, Yuuri, with a kind of dead set determination that he doesn’t even bump into the other two by accident. It also means he’s waking at an ungodly time and eating in the cafeteria when it’s just him and the cafe lady.

The rink is also empty when he skates, taking the advantage of the odd hours he’s accumulated, which is the upside in all this. He works on his step sequence mindlessly, right over left, left over right, glances occasionally flitting to the edge of the rink in paranoia. It’s not that he wants Phichit to—he exhales forcefully.

It’s not that he wants _anybody_ to come watch.

He’s here because he wants to improve his technical abilities, like sharpening his toe loops and getting enough spin in his triple axel.

First, a quadraple loop. Seung-gil breathes in shallowly and prepares himself for the first turn.

He lands cleanly, exhaling as he twists his body upright again.

Next, triple axel.

He doesn’t get enough rotations this time, closing it to a double axel, but it’s fine, he’s still on his feet.

A triple lutz, followed by a triple toe loop.

He closes his eyes, ready to spin—

“—Seung?”

His eyes jam wide when he trips, slamming into the ice. There’s a few hurried shouts in the background and Seung-gil groans, pushing himself off the slippery floor. No scrapes, but his knees feel bruised; nothing’s twisted or broken, so it’s a win.

“I am so sorry!” Someone—brown skin, ah _Phichit_ , grabs his shoulders, panicked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I was just—it’s just I’ve been trying to find you for days and I—“

“I’m fine,” Seung-gil growls, shrugging off the hold harsher than he intended.

Phichit drops his hands like he’s being burnt. “…Okay,” he says softly. “…Um, I am sorry though. About. The video.”

Seung-gil does _not_ want to talk about it, but it seems like Phichit doesn’t pick up on that, ploughing on earnestly.

“That’s why you’re mad at me, right? I-I’ll… _stop_ ,” the Thai skater says, obviously taking a lot. “I promise I’ll stop. I won’t…take videos or photos…so…please…” he mumbles, looking through his eyelashes, “...don’t be mad?”

Seung-gil finds himself not feeling angry, per se, he’s just…upset. And frustrated. And _disappointed_. In himself. Because he thought—

“I’m not angry,” Seung-gil mutters, putting his weight on his knee so he can stand up.

“Of course you are,” Phichit says, getting up as well and that’s when Seung-gil notices that Phichit’s wearing _shoes_. “You—“

“No shoes on the ice.”

“—were—“ Phichit stops, looking at his feet. “Oh. Right. I was worried that you—…” he shakes his head. “Seung, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know why else you’re avoiding me and…you’re my _friend_ , and—“

“Then why did you take it for your fans?” Seung-gil snaps without really meaning to, looking away with his lips cringed when he realises what he said.

“Um, because they like you,” Phichit replies blankly. “You’re not on _anything_ so it’s really hard to see a picture of you anywhere. You should see some of the messages they write for—”

“I don’t like it,” he cuts in. “So stop it.”

Phichit closes his mouth. “Okay,” he mumbles, just as soft as the other time. “I’m sorry.”

Seung-gil forces himself to turn away, but before he can take two steps Phichit grabs his wrist with both hands.

“…Are we still friends?” the other asks quietly. “I want to stay as your friend.”

Seung-gil ears warm, and he stares decidedly at his own skates.

“Get off the ice. I’m going to eat,” he says before tugging his arm away gently. “You can come if you want to,” he mutters quickly.

“…Really?—Hey, hey Seung! Wait for me!”

* * *

True to his word, Phichit stops pointing his phone in Seung-gil’s direction. It doesn’t mean that Phichit stops taking photos though—quite the opposite, he seems to take everything with double the quantity as though to make up for the loss of photos that Seung-gil refuses to participates in. Yuuri even chastises Phichit one time for taking too much time out of the rink because the other apparently couldn’t get the right angle or lighting, while Seung-gil is already five minutes in the rink and starting some warm ups. 

It’s not like he’s watching Phichit throw an arm over Yuuri and squish closer for a photo and that’s why he bumps into the barrier—but he _does_ bump into the barrier, for reasons unknown.

His head is just in a mess, thinking about stuff like…friendship. Yeah.

He practices his triple axel all afternoon, because he just can’t seem to get the rotation right. He slinks off the ice when he finally concedes that doing anymore will strain his ankle, planting himself on the bench to rest his feet. Usually he’s quick about heading into cool down stretches, but this time he casts his gaze to the rink where Phichit and Yuuri are still practicing.

Yuuri is halfway through a step sequence, face blank while his feet move methodically. Seung-gil’s never really pitched Yuuri to be an impressive skater—but when he watches the Japanese slide his blades cleanly in rapid sequence, he finds that he can’t look away, the complex steps gliding into the next with ease. It eases out into a spread eagle, and then, a triple salchow.

Yuuri lands it cleanly, an obvious relieved exhale out of his nose when he twists upright. The skater obviously has the skills to make it—but you can’t make it on skill alone; you need confidence to _use_ the skill.

On the other side of the rink, Phichit lands a quadraple salchow and triple toe loop beautifully, with good height and flow. The Thai skater grins, obviously delighted as he twirls his body around the ice, coming to a stop beside Yuuri.

Seung-gil is too far away to hear what the other two are talking about, but he can clearly see Phichit take out his phone, press his sweat-soaked head against Yuuri and beam up for a picture. Phichit used to chase _him_ around the rink for a picture, but now Phichit hugs a spluttering Yuuri again and presses the button on his phone repeatedly.

It’s not like misses—

No.

* * *

 _Instagram_ , is the name of the app that Phichit uses, as Seung-gil finds out. Not so much finds out than ask Yuuri about it, casually. And by casual he means he stared at Yuuri for the entire day wondering what would be the best way to ask without it sounding weird until Yuuri scratched his neck uncomfortably and asked him what was wrong when Phichit was out of earshot.

At least the Japanese has the tact to ask while they’re alone, because Seung-gil would not have known what to do if Phichit knew he had an interest in his beloved social media site. Well, _interest_ might be a wrong word here.

Maybe _curiosity_.

He finds that he needs to make an account first, which his soul dies in the process of typing out a reluctant ‘ _seung_ - _gillee’_. He has no desire to upload any photos—maybe his dog, if he’s generous enough—anyway, the main point is that he wanted to see _Phichit’s_ photos.

Phichit said something about _messages_ the other time, probably from his fans to him. Maybe they said something useful about his skating. Phichit’s account is easy to find—barely six letters in the search and the Thai skater’s profile picture is at the top.

Now that he has all the time in the world to really look at the profile, he takes a moment to be staggered by the number of followers Phichit has. He’s always known Phichit is popular with his fans because he interacts with them, yeah, but. Okay, it also means that _that_ many number of people have seen his photos, which does not sound good.

The recent photos are all of Yuuri and Phichit together—at breakfast, in the rink, at lunch, in the rink, at dinner, in the rink—Seung-gil swipes down far enough to find something not of the Japanese’s face, and stops still at one in particular.

It’s just a picture of a white background with the Korean hangul 미안합니다.

_I’m sorry._

 

>  ♥ 3,180 likes
> 
> **phichit+chu** Staring today I won’t be uploading any pictures of Seung. I haven’t thought about his feelings at all and I’m sorry. I want to respect his boundaries because he’s important to me. I hope you all understand. #LeeSeung-gil
> 
> _View all 1,429 comments_
> 
> **icefanatic32** no please come back (ಥ﹏ಥ)
> 
> **seungsings09** Ｔ＿Ｔ I hope everything is ok between you two
> 
> **pikachit244** ╥﹏╥ ╥﹏╥ ╥﹏╥

 

Something warm bleeds into Seung-gil’s chest. It’s…awfully nice to know that Phitchit really stuck to the promise. He guesses, after all, Phichit is a good person. He genuinely cares about Seung-gil’s feelings and, over the weeks, is really the only person who made a constant effort to keep him included in company, to be his _friend_.

Ugh, he feels kind of guilty now, because Phichit obviously loves his selfie-taking lifestyle and sharing it with his beloved fans. He scrolls down to see some of the other earlier pictures Phichit has posted, one in particular of him zoning out into the distance.

 

>   ♥ 2,953 likes
> 
> **phichit+chu** Some people are just too pretty to be real (ノ｀m´)ノ ~┻━┻ #LeeSeung-gil
> 
> _View all 1,203 comments_
> 
> **vikkinov** wow
> 
> **yzruhzu98** im jealous af

It’s nothing special, but he’s slightly embarrassed that Phichit had taken the picture without him knowing at all—it’s just one of those days where it was raining outside and he’d taken to enjoying the pitter patter and wind from a bench under shelter.

He hasn’t realised—well.

Pretty? Seung-gil, scowls faintly, but supposes he can forgive Phichit, just a bit.

The next few ones are (hilariously) of Phichit doing the victory sign while Seung-gil has his face half covered by his hand. Now these Seung-gil are familiar with, since it happens—used to happen—every morning when Phichit tried to get a shot together.

And then he comes across one where he doesn’t remember, _again_.

The background looks like it’s somewhere in the hallway, on one of the seats Seung-gil had planted himself on after getting a drink from the vending machine. Yeah, he can vaguely picture the area now, but he can’t tear his eyes away from how Phichit has his arm tucked around his neck while he’s sleeping, dead to the world. Yuuri is at the corner of the picture, smiling awkwardly like he’s scared Seung is going to wake up anytime and throttle them—he would’ve—while Phichit makes a kissy face against his cheek.

 

>  ♥ 2,782 likes
> 
> **phichit+chu** Isn’t he cute?? (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc) #LeeSeung-gil
> 
> _View all 922 comments_
> 
> **lickmeseung** you should kiss him!!
> 
> **noicenolife** is there something we should know ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

Seung-gil slaps one hand on his cheek on reflex and refuses to let blood rush to his face. To think Phichit’s lips actually _touched_ his face—it’s a joke. Right. What the fuck, he now has another bone to pick with his Thai skater, except, admitting to the knowledge of this picture means that he checked out Instagram—

He huffs and scrolls down to the rest of the photos blindly. There are plenty more of him and Phichit, usually with his face covered by his hand, some more candid solo shots of him, and then there’s one at the very far back, where it’s just Phichit in front with a wide eyed excited face and a dark blur behind him.

The dark blur, Seung-gil realises, is him.

 

>  ♥ 3,089 likes
> 
> **phichit+chu** Best day of my life! I’ve only seen his skating on tv but what an opportunity to meet him in Detroit!! He’s so cool and his skating is absolutely beautiful, I’m so happy to see him here!!（ｉДｉ）I’m so scared to talk to him, what if he hates me?? Wish me luck, I’m going to do it!! #newbestfriend #LeeSeung-gil
> 
> _View all 849 comments_

Phichit actually—…

The _idiot_ actually…

Fuck, why did he think it was a good idea to go on Instagram when he’s about to sleep?

* * *

He never raises it up with Phichit.

Of course he _can’t_ , because that’s admitting he voluntarily went on a social media site, one that he insisted he didn’t want to be on in the first place. They continue on their daily schedule—trainings, off days, more trainings, with Phichit documenting everything with his phone as usual. Phichit never bothers him for a picture, instead turns to the one and only person who has trouble saying ‘no’—Yuuri pulls an awkward smile as Phichit grabs him close for a photo.

A bright grin, eyes slightly crinkled, fingers in a victory pose; Phichit has it all down to an art, busy typing whatever caption he thought of for the new post. Yuuri takes the excuse to sigh in relief, eyes darting to Seung-gil for a brief moment.

“Seung?” the Japanese skater starts timidly.

“What,” his tone is much flatter than he thought.

“Are you feeling okay?” the other enquires, tilting his head. “You look like you’re…” he gestures hastily, “...feeling unwell?”

“What?” Seung-gil repeats, confused.

He feels fine, it’s just that there’s a tight tension at his eyebrows which he—

“You’re not well?” Phichit cuts in, sticking his face close to Seung-gil’s suddenly, who has zero time to step back. “I hope it’s not a fever,” the Thai skater says, and then takes one more step to press their foreheads together.

If Seung-gil didn’t feel sick before, he certainly feels sick _now_. His stomach drops like it’s hurling over the cliff, with a rush of something fluttery crawling up the edges of his gut. Heat rushes to his ears while his hands go clammy cold—his breath gets stuck when he tries to protest, tries to say _something_ ,

“No, you feel fine,” Phichit says at last, stepping back. “Do you have a headache? A stomach ache? Wait, I’ve got some tablets in my room that might help!”

Before he knows it he’s being dragged down the hallway, towards the skater duo’s room. Yuuri pushes him to sit down on one of the beds and fumbles around looking for something, whilst Phichit is already deep in his drawers, taking out things after _things_ and mumbling to himself.

“Guys, really, it’s—“ Seung-gil starts, but Yuuri apparently finds what he’s looking for because the other brandishes an empty jug into the air.

“I’ll be back with water!” Yuuri announces triumphantly and scuttles out of the room.

Seung-gil has to wonder what the hell these boys have been doing if they had to _search_ for their water jug. Phichit is still tossing things out of his drawers, ignoring the attempts that Seung-gil tries to make to get his attention.

“Uh, I’m not—“

“Aha, there it is!” Phichit grins when he finds _whatever_ he’s looking for. “Oh wait, I’ll get a cup for you!”

The other drops the box of tablets he was holding by Seung-gil’s side and dashes out quickly before Seung-gil can say anything. It’s so _bizzare_ —does he really look sick? Seung-gil touches his face, feeling self-conscious. Previously when Phichit was so close, he really felt like he was…

Oh fuck, he feels kind of sick again, with his chest tight and heartbeat rapid.

This is stupid, he should just get a mirror to check his complexion instead of thinking of Phichit. He stands up, intending to head towards the common toilet just down the corridor when he notices a green rectangle placed absentmindedly at the corner of the things Phichit had taken out of his drawer.

His _phone_.

It’s unusual, because Phichit never leaves his phone alone anywhere. _Never_.

Seung-gil picks up the phone, in all honest to god intent to place it somewhere safer in case one of them steps on it later, but he glances at the screen and finds that it’s unlocked. It’s just innocent curiosity, he just had a fleeting wonder about what Phichit was typing earlier about his selfie with Yuuri, so he taps on the app and blinks when he notices it’s not the same profile he’s seen before.

 

 **phichit+shh  
137 ** posts **0** follower **0** following

 

Last time he checked, Phichit had a few _thousand_ followers, not _zero_. And _way_ more posts. And people he was following.

And these pictures too.

They’re of.

They’re of, well, _him_.

 _Just him_ , with no Yuuri or Phichit in sight. Some—all—of them are candid shots; Seung-gil knows he’s never posed for any of them deliberately. In all of these, he’s staring into the vague distance, sometimes with a crease in his eyebrows, sometimes with a relaxed expression, sometimes even, with a hint of a smile.

Those times when he’s resting on the bench and watching the rink, those times when he’s staring at—food?—sport equipment?—a book?— _things_ , those times when his hair is still wet from his early morning shower with a towel still hung over his head.

 _When_ Phichit even take these?

The first caption is the one that really takes the hurl in his stomach to a free-fall with no harness.

 

> **phichit+shh** I know he told me not to post anymore but…I can’t stop looking when he does this…

 

Seung-gil immediately stops biting his lower lip like he’s doing exactly in the picture—he does that when he’s stressed or concentrating, he knows that.

And Phichit had—has been…uh, staring?

Fuck.

Next post.

 

> **phichit+shh** Seung looking happy, I wonder if he’ll ever look at me like that?

 

Seung-gil sucks in a faint breath. Okay, he can’t be misreading this, right, because—

Next post.

 

> **phichit+shh** I think I’m in love.

 

“—Seung?”

Seung-gil drops the phone in shock, hands raised defensively.

“Uh—“ Seung-gil starts, his face going white. “I didn’t—“

Phichit frowns, confused, picking up his phone, an empty mug in his other hand.

“Oh, I didn’t realise I left it…” he trails off, mouth closing when he sees what Seung-gil had been looking at before he walked in.

“I can—“ Seung-gil tries, “—explain?”

There’s no other expression than sheer _horror_ on Phichit’s face as the skater drops the mug on the (thankfully) carpeted floor and _hightails_ out of the door. Seung-gil blinks rapidly before he realises that Phichit is _running away_ —fuck—he focuses back to reality and gives chase.

“Hey, HEY!” he yells, but _damn_ Phichit is fast on only on ice but also on land.

“Uh…Phichi—…Seung?!” Yuuri yelps when both of them come barrelling past, neither stopping in their tracks.

Seung-gil sprints after the Thai skater the best he can, occasionally shouting for the other to stop but Phichit never does, not even once looking back, running like his life depends on it. They’ve gone around the rink, outside the field, down three corridors, up four flights of steps, and Seung-gil ready to collapse when he spies the familiar hallway they’re running in—Phichit slams his door right in Seung-gil’s face just a second before he steps in.

Goddammit.

Seung-gil breathes heavily, knocking on the door—more like banging on the door, but whatever.

“Hey, open up!”

There’s some arguing inside but no one answers him, and the door is obviously locked. He ruffles the back of his hair frustratedly before stepping close to the door again.

“…Phi..chit?” he tries, name weird on his tongue—because—well, it’s the first time he’s ever said it, and he’s not sure if it’s right. “Phichit, open the door. I think we should. Talk.”

“…I don’t have anything to say,” comes Phichit’s muffled voice finally.

Seung-gil clenches his fist. “Then, what if I have something to say?”

“I don’t want to hear it—wait, Yuu— _Yuuri_!” Phichit wails when the door swings open abruptly, revealing a red-faced Yuuri.

“I. I don’t think I should be here,” Yuuri manages, not looking Seung-gil in the eye. “Uh, please go ahead and talk.”

The Japanese skater shuffles his way out, and Seung-gil nods after him, mentally noting to give him a thanks later on. Seung-gil slips the door close after his step in, noting that Phichit has curled himself on the far end of one of the beds with his face in his hands. Seung-gil gingerly stands next to him, and when Phichit doesn’t move, he sits down, ramrod straight.

Okay, fuck, he didn’t plan anything to say, to be honest.

“…I’m sorry,” Phichit whispers through his fingers. “I know you must…” he swallows, voice thick. “...hate me now, I just…I’m sorry…”

Seung-gil eyes Phichit uncomfortably. He doesn’t really know what to say in response either, it’s just. Well. Phichit’s ears are so red, it’s fascinating. He slowly places one arm on Phichit’s shoulder—the action is _beyond_ awkward, even Phichit drops his hands to stare at him when he does it. Seung-gil finds that the flutters in his gut are chewing at him again, and heat floods his cheeks.

He fumbles for his own phone with his other hand—how the fuck does Phichit do this naturally—and raises it up in front of them.

“It’s okay…” he mumbles, “If it’s just us. I guess.”

When he takes the photo, his hand shakes so bad that the photo turns out blur—but he refuses to take another one, because he just lost like ten years of his life in embarrassment. Phichit barely makes a sound next to him, looking helplessly lost with a dark red hue on his face.

Now _that’s_ a picture Seung-gil would want in his own phone.

Seung-gil retracts his arm hastily, the mortification of his actions catching up.

“Um, c-can we take another one?” Phichit ventures, voice high in nervousness. “Please?”

Seung-gil holds out his phone. “You can take it, I’m not good with…these things,” he mutters, trying to keep his own blush under control.

Phichit holds it up with an ease of a professional, shifting closer to Seung-gil, with his cheek almost brushing the other. Seung-gil flickers his gaze from the screen to _anywhere_ , really, because Phichit is smiling so blinding wide that his fingers tremble knowing that it’s directed at him.

Just before Phichit presses the button, however, the Thai skater turns his head and presses his lips on Seung-gil’s cheek.

.

.

. 

 

 

> ♥ seung-gillee
> 
> **phichit+shh** I know I’m in love.


End file.
